Carcarana may be called the Richmond—­one might almost say the Brighton—­of Rosario.  It stands on a river, the Carcaranal, to the banks of which an omnibus runs twice a day from the railway-station, during the season, to take people to bathe.  Near the station is also an excellent little hotel, containing a large dining-room and a few bed-rooms, kept by two Frenchwomen; and here the Rosarians come out by train to dine and enjoy the fresh air.  It was quite dark by the time we arrived, so that we could not see much of the flourishing little colony which has been formed here.  We therefore paddled across the wet road to the inn, where, despite the somewhat rough surroundings, we enjoyed a capital dinner, cooked in the true French style.  They are specially celebrated here for their asparagus, but the locusts had devoured all but a very few stalks, besides which they were held responsible, on the present occasion, for the absence of other vegetables and salad.  Yesterday there was a grand wedding-party near here, the complete success of which was, we were told, somewhat marred by the fact, that for six hours, in the very middle of the day, it became absolutely necessary to light candles, owing to the dense clouds of locusts, about a league in extent, by which the air was darkened.  Trains are even stopped by these insects occasionally; for they appear to like a hard road, and when they get on the line their bodies make the rails so greasy that the wheels of the engines will not bite.  Moreover, they completely obscure the lights and signals, so that the men are afraid to proceed.  The only remedy, therefore, is to go very slowly, preceded by a truck-load of sand, which is scattered freely over the rails in front of the engine.  Horses will not always face a cloud of locusts, even to get to their stables, but turn round and stand doggedly still, until it has passed.

After dinner we once more stepped into our special train, in which we arrived at Rosario at about half-past nine o’clock, thoroughly tired out.

CHAPTER VI.

LIFE ON THE PAMPAS.

There’s tempest in yon horned moon, And lightning in yon cloud; But hark the music, mariners! The wind is piping loud.

Saturday, September 16th.—­Waking at half-past five, we busied ourselves until nine o’clock, when we again started in a special train for Carcarana.  After a short stop at Roldan, it was reached two hours later, and breakfast was followed by a long ride through the Land Company’s colony, and from thence to Candelaria, a purely Spanish settlement.